


Hold on to your heart

by Mis_Shapes



Series: Writer's Picks [3]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Canon Era, Denial, During Canon, Fluff, Jealousy, Kissing, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-20
Updated: 2020-05-20
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:07:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24281047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mis_Shapes/pseuds/Mis_Shapes
Summary: Robb worries about many elements of marching south, and that includes Theon's japes that he will find Jonelle Cerwyn in his bedroll. He has no choice but to approach his closest friend for advice and pointers.
Relationships: Theon Greyjoy/Robb Stark
Series: Writer's Picks [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1780456
Comments: 10
Kudos: 46





	Hold on to your heart

**Author's Note:**

> With love to [Lydia_Martin_trash](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lydia_Martin_trash/pseuds/Lydia_Martin_trash) for the prompt

He can still hear the deep rumble of the chuckle that had escaped Theon the moment they were alone earlier that afternoon even now, as he sat in the hall of Winterfell surrounded by bannermen all at least twice his age. Sat at the head of the long table, his father’s seat, he picked at his food, nodding occasionally to maintain the pretence that he was paying attention to the conversation going on around him. He felt like a child posing as an adult, Arya storming the courtyard in Jory’s helmet.

“Mark my words, Stark.” In this memory, Theon’s lip curls, he blinks in slow motion as he thinks back on the council and holds back more laughter. Dark lashes flutter. The room around him is a blur, a background of little importance. “That girl will be under your furs before we make it past Moat Cailin.”

What would he do with a girl in his bedroll? How had this become something to focus on? Of all things, he did not need the pressure of learning to pleasure a woman on the road south. Would he truly not turn her away? He hadn’t even had much success kissing those that he’d had trists within the shadows of the castle. Along quiet corridors and hidden behind doors. That wasn’t to say they hadn’t been… pleasant, but when he watched Theon in the present coax a girl into his lap and take her by the lips, he knew it wasn’t the same. Their eyes hadn’t closed like this girl’s did, they hadn’t melted into his hand at their jaw, he hadn’t found it in him to part their lips. Not that they hadn’t, with clashes of teeth and the jarring feel of tongues. 

She is gone as quickly as she came, with Theon laying a sly hand on her backside as she stands. His grin spread wide across his face when she turned back to look at him, cheeks blushing a pretty pink under the freckles. Robb hated the way Theon did this, it's not right on them. He wouldn’t dare with Robb’s mother there, but with neither Lady Stark nor his father in sight, Theon does as he pleases. If he doesn’t have the respect of Theon, how can he expect it of the Northern Lords and for them to follow him to war with no doubts?

It was as though Theon read his mind when he looked up from his wine to meet Robb’s eyes and winked merrily over the cup. Robb’s stomach twisted and turned with envy. This wasn’t him, he couldn’t begrudge his friend fun because he lacks their carefree nature, their ways with the opposite sex, because he himself has no sweet words to whisper in their ears.

Theon chortled at him when he mentioned his lack of seductive prowess later in the night. Sat upon the stone sill of Robb’s room’s window in the witching hour, a long leg of his rocks backwards and forward. It was a common sight these days. “It’s not something you need worry about,” he told him with a slight tilt of his head. “They will come to you. The young Stark lord out for justice.” Still amused with himself and his flights of fancy, he looked out the window, watching the flurry of snow. But Robb did worry. “I’m speaking sense, if you would only listen. It’s something you will learn with experience, and you’ll have plenty of opportunity, no doubt.”

“I have had experiences, but none were much to speak off,” Robb muttered dismissively, pacing the floor. Sighing, he rubbed at the patchy stubble at his face.

“You’re too in your head. It doesn’t do to be this tense. We should be finding you an outlet,” smirked Theon, setting his head against the wall. “I know. I have an idea.”

Robb frowned, knowing full well plans such as these normally involved a trip to the winter town. “No.”

“You haven’t even heard it, Stark,” Theon drawled, words softened by the wine.

“Fine,” Robb gave an exasperated sigh, his breath visible in the cool air, “go on.”

Crooking his finger, Theon beckoned him over and shuffled to allow space down beside him. Whatever Robb was expecting, it wasn't for him to lean in close, for his nose to graze his own, hot breath against his lips. “How about it?”

Robb’s heart thrummed in his chest to his fingertips as he searched Theon’s face for the hint of a joke forming. Already it was different. But that was because of the absurdity, wasn’t it? Or the danger of being caught. Rickon seeking comfort after a nightmare or simply something that needed his attention. A raven perhaps. The gods knew, there was no end to the words of the Northern lords. Anyone could look up and see them silhouetted in the light of the candles.

No, in his heart of hearts he knew why, and the thought made him tremble.

He all but lunged forward, taking Theon’s jaw in his hand and claiming his sweet mouth, tasting the wine on his lips and tongue. This was not the same, he craved more, not to go through the motions. If he kissed him well, with enough passion, then maybe it would be enough to drive the memory of another’s kiss from Theon’s lips.

His heart stops when the Ironborn’s hands reach to him, fearing Theon to reveal a jest or to have a change of heart. But rather than push, they pull, grasping for his doublet and threading fingers through the curls at the nape of his neck, pulling him close. They are longer now than when his mother left, as wild and untamable as he feels.

His disappointed groan could not be contained when Theon broke from him. Embarrassed, Robb kept his eyes closed, not wishing to witness Theon’s expression and feeling heat build in his cheeks, spreading quickly to the tips of his ears. Instant regret filled the pit of his stomach. How could he have been so foolish as to open the door to destruction.

Rather than pull away completely, Theon’s lips ghosted over him, breath easing the burn until he stopped to whisper into the shell of his ear in dulcet tones. “I don’t think you have anything to worry about, but I'm happy to help my dearest friend to practice his skills, be it on the courtyard or the bedchamber.”

“I think that will be necessary,” Robb responded, swallowing down his nerves. And for it, he gained sea-green eyes looking into his own, willing him on.

**Author's Note:**

> Feel very welcome to say hi on [my new writing/asoiaf tumblr!](https://salty-wench.tumblr.com)


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